


Afterlife of the Party

by cutthroatpixie



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5687239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutthroatpixie/pseuds/cutthroatpixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In the crowd alone/And every second passing reminds me I'm not whole/Bright lights and city sounds are ringing like a drone/Unknown, unknown</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first time you were five.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterlife of the Party

The first time you were five. You'd discovered the array of pretty bottles, all perfectly organised on dusty shelves, and like any child would be you were curious. Most were too high for you to reach but a clear plastic bottle with pink and purple pictures on the label was right at your height. You didn't even struggle with the cap, talented young lady that you were, and soon enough you were drinking... you were spitting out whatever awful thing was in that bottle and you were shoving it right back on the damn shelf. Your throat burned as you sputtered and coughed. Your eyes watered. There was nothing sweet or pretty about the taste, almost a cough medicine mixed with rubbing alcohol, interspersed with waves of absolute terror. 

You didn't try again for awhile. Not until you were taller. Not until you knew that those bottles were “booze” and the one you had tried was the most terrible, cheap one that could be found. You'd laughed when you realised. Your mom was probably testing to see if you'd give up after that first "totally gross" sip. You thought you passed the test, when you'd found a different, better bottle and managed not just a sip, but a whole glass.

At first you'd just felt thirsty, which made sense, since everything you'd found online said alcohol made you dehydrated. You'd had some water and then poured yourself another glass, thinking maybe that was the only side effect you were going to experience and feeling a bit disappointed. The internet had made drinking seem both wonderful and terrible but exciting either way, especially considering you had nothing better to do.

Nothing happened.

And then everything happened.

You were... floaty. Not floating, no, you were on the ground, feet haphazardly planted as you swayed to the rhythm your body apparently wanted to keep in that moment. Things weren't spinning, not really, but they also weren't staying put as they normally did. It all seemed so silly. You weren't doing anything, just standing there, but you had to laugh because suddenly it was all too funny. You felt giddy and wonderful and you were so working on Wizardy Herbert _right then_ because you were suddenly filled with inspired wisdom and vigor and mad writing skills.

Your handwriting was a bit off since your hands weren’t quite cooperating. That didn’t stop you from your work. You stopped really being aware of what you were doing after awhile. That didn’t seem to stop you either.

The next morning was awful. Almost like how death would feel, you'd thought (you'd been wrong). You were sicker than the time you'd gotten food poisoning when you were eight and twice as miserable, though at least this time you knew exactly what was going on and why. That didn't really make you feel any better, it actually made you feel worse, because you knew this could happen and you still drank all those glasses down like there was no tomorrow. 

Your research into cures for this post-alcohol sickness (a hangover, you learned) turned up a few things you didn't actually have, like aspirin, so when you saw that the disgustingly delicious drink that got you into this mess was also a possible end to it, you hesitated only a moment before pouring a small glass from another beautiful, this time blue, bottle.

When you felt better, your stomach no longer churning and your head cleared of its throbbing fog, you wondered why you'd ever doubted this fantastic, magical healing elixir your dear mother had left for you.

\---

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TT: Is this going to be a thing now?  
TG: watver do u mean  
TG: *watever  
TT: That is still incorrect, but also beside the point. You know what I mean.  
TG: im just havin some fun chillax   
TG: :)  
TG: liek what the fcku else am i gonna do   
TG: mead some sweet mytant kittues  
TG: fed teh chesss peeps  
TG: gsve you thsoe rad codesd you ndded  
TG: tiem to sit down and hvae a good tiemm  
TT: Are you going to sit there and fix all those typos?   
TT: Just wondering, in case you need a moment before I reply.  
TG: dont be a ass  
TG: yuo dont even dederve my typi fixse mr grimpy pants  
TG: *you *deserve *typo wait im not giving thse to you  
TT: Right.  
TT: Thanks for helping me with the coding. I had thought it would be a "good time" for you, since you always loved getting to practice your "mad hacker skills", but I must have been mistaken since the good times didn't start until after you'd finished.  
TG: haxxor  
TG: and of c I love thta shit toss it at me all the yime  
TG: *that *time  
TG: yuor robots need the rolal tuch  
TT: I don't even want to know all the Rolal touches you've snuck into them, but I'm not going to argue with that.  
TG: ;) ;) ;)  


You didn't say that you thought he could also use the "rolal tuch", but you thought you'd made enough comments in that fashion for Dirk to most likely know what you were thinking based on the winks alone.

\---

The floating feeling stopped after awhile, replaced by a deep, fuzzy fog that filled your mind and your limbs, making those brilliant tipsy ideas you came up with into nonsense the minute you tried to relay them to anyone. It was funny at first, like the typos always were, but then it stopped just being about words, stopped being just "dick" instead of "dirk" and "ass" instead of "ask". Instead whole ideas were lost to your inept hands, pictures so clear in your head did not make it to the keyboard, theories about the past and newer, more efficient ways for Dirk’s robots to do whatever the fuck it was he wanted at the moment were lost to your drunken giggles. In the morning, your head didn't just hurt, it was filled with a sense of loss, filled with an emptiness (hah) that had taken over your ideas. You began wondering if they were even really there to begin with, if you'd really actually thought of something clever in the first place, because why would you forget something if it was so important? Perhaps you'd imagined those light bulbs above your head, told Jane you'd forgotten that joke because it never existed, told Dirk you'd explain what you found later because you'd never found something to begin with.

Though on second thought, you always wondered if getting to the bottom of another bottle would also help in getting to the bottom of all those lost ideas, all those missing pieces, since you'd found the messages in a bottle to begin with...

\---

You were more fun when you drank, everyone thought so (you could tell). Jake found you more charming, if a bit hard to understand (he never understood you when you were sober anyway). Jane thought you were just being drunk and funny when you let slip odd facts about yourself and that somehow hurt less than her just thinking you were making up stories without the aid of alcohol (hurt less than you feeling she thought you were a liar).

You felt more charming. More hilarious. Less in control but that was okay because who wanted to be in control all the time? It was far too exhausting, far too pointless, for one person to have complete control of themselves constantly. You thought maybe that was why Dirk seemed so miserable sometimes. He never just... let go. You'd told him so, once.

TT: Why do I need to at all when you do it enough for the both of us?

You'd felt insulted in that moment and dropped the subject. You didn't drink for two whole days after that and somehow still managed to feel more miserable than like you'd proven anything, especially when Dirk hadn't even mentioned your lack of typos in your chats or the absence of a drink in your hand when you video chatted.

\---

You were having the time of your goddamned life. You were so... happy was not the right word for it, but you were pleased with yourself and you were giddy and you were. Probably being ridiculous and if Dirk ever saw all this weird shit you were typing at his auto responder, he would be angry with you (maybe? or he wouldn't care or he'd be angry and pretend not to care and he'd also be embarrassed and that would make sense, but would you have been embarrassed if he saw it?).

You were feeling the goddamned beat to some oldass music pumping through your (at one point) state of the art speakers and you didn't have a care in the world. You had a lot of cares in the world, actually, far too many, but you weren't thinking about them because you were too busy having a good time.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TT: I swear, I can't leave my computer for two seconds without you having some bizarre, mystery conversation with my AR, can I?  
TG: lol probs no  
TG: its all good fun no worries  
TG: real dirk alyaws my fav  
TG: *always  
TT: I was not exactly worried about not being your favorite. More about you adding fuel to the metaphorical fire that is my autoresponder’s ego.  
TT: But I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.  
TG: oh ill show you sentiment  
TT: Will you now.  
TG: ;)  
TG: <3  
TG: whoa look at that  
TG: fucking sentimental as hell where did that ceom from what is this anatomicaly incorrect heart like symbol  
TG: <3   
TG: that one in the middle tho what is that  
TG: #sentimentalbullshitfordirk  
TG: probs  
TT: Oh definitely. What ever are you going to do, now that this sentimentality is taking over and making you spew out symbolic representations of hearts?  
TG: no fuckin clue i was hopin you would know what to do  
TG: <3 <3 <3 <3 <3  
TG: its gettin worse  
TG: !!!  
TT: I am afraid there's no cure. You're just going to keep sending those until you tire yourself out and move on to another topic of conversation.  
TG: <3333333333333333333333333333  
TT: I don't even want to know what an actual heart would look like if it had that many threes.  
TG: lmao  
TG: ok but now  
TG: without sefue   
TG: *segue  
TG: imma send you a damn song i found earlier bc it is perf  
TT: Are you cured then?  
TG: oh far from it  
TG: but you are spared from contimanation for now  
TT: How thoughtful of you.  


Everything was great in that moment, it really was. You spent the evening sending Dirk increasingly more ridiculous music you'd managed to find in the dark recesses of the ancient internet and you barely noticed when your drink ran out, didn't bother to refill it, because you were already feeling that good kind of fuzz without any sort of outside aid.

\---

Sometimes you felt good without the alcohol and sometimes you didn’t and still other times the alcohol made you feel bad, but that wasn’t _all_ the time, it mostly made you feel at least okay, so it wasn’t terrible, right? Right. It made you feel normal, almost. As normal as a teenage girl living all alone in a post-apocalyptic ocean world 1500+ miles away from the only other remaining human being could feel, anyway. 

You were restless. You had Frigglish, who was the best, most adorable, perfect kitty there ever could be in the whole world. You had the chess people, sweet beautiful souls that they were. You didn’t have them in person, but you had Dirk and Jake and Jane and they were great friends. They weren’t perfect but they were yours and you loved them just the same. You just. Heard Dirk snort with laughter over voicechat and wanted to know if it really sounded just like that in person, without the interference and miles and recording equipment and sound waves having to travel through more than just air and your ear. Saw Jane’s somewhat blurry selfies and knew that you didn’t look exactly the same in your own carefully angled and arranged self portraits, so what differences would you find if she was in the same room as you? Read the way Jake spoke, with all his silly lingo, and would he really talk like that all the time if you saw him day in and day out? 

You were so lonely. 

\---

You thought you loved him. You _knew_ you loved him. But. He was your oldest actually human friend, the first person you spoke to when you were both so much younger (not _that_ much but it seemed so long ago at that point somehow) and he understood you in a way nobody else could ever possibly hope to. And you loved him, as a friend and as your most trusted person and as. You didn’t know.

You didn’t want to mess things up or make them awkward but you just kept on doing it anyway, kept on flirting and doing whatever it was you did with his autoresponder (you knew exactly what it is you were doing) and 

Ugh.

TT: Earth to Roxy. Or rather, one certain geographic region of Earth to Roxy.

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] is an idle chum!

TT: You have not responded in quite awhile and I am calculating that there is a 99.989897% chance you aren’t paying attention to a single word I’m typing.  
TG: lol 99.whatever my ass dont talk to me with your percentages  
TT: There you are.  
TT: I was beginning to think you had fallen asleep.  
TG: naw  
TG: just  
TG: dirk never sees these chats ya?  
TT: Of course he doesn’t. I have taken the proper precautions.  
TG: right  
TG: where is that nerd anyway  
TT: He’s in the shower.  
TG: ofc he is lol  
TG: means we gt all the time in the world then bb  
TT: Figuratively speaking, yes.   
TG: figuratitely speakin  
TG: your a hunk  
TT: I do believe you mean “literally speaking” in this case.  
TG: ;)  


You continued your “flirtlarp” session with Hal, until Dirk came back a few hours later. He seemed annoyed when he mentioned the suddenly missing chatlog and you tried to drown the guilt with a little gin. You pretended you couldn’t almost hear the irritation in Dirk’s typing as your own got worse and worse.

\---

You woke up some mornings with absolutely no recollection of what you had said or done the night before. Luckily for you, you always seemed to be pestering somebody, which made it a lot easier to piece things together. What wasn’t so lucky was when you didn’t really like the conversations that had taken place. 

GG: I’m just wondering why you are you so upset about your mom being dead, when she clearly isn’t?  
GG: It’s not a funny joke like all your other future talk!   
TG: frgut it  
TG: *forget  
TG: im nto updet haha seh is cearly fne and knws who i am  
TG: !!! wat a graet alive mom i have  
TG: *GREAT  
TG: v great  
GG: If something’s wrong you can tell me, you know.  
GG: You’re my friend and I care about you! :B  
GG: But you don’t need to make things up. Did you have a fight with your mom or something?  


tipsyGnostalgic [TG] has blocked gutsyGumshoe [GG]!

Jane never believed the things you said. You didn’t know why you even bothered.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TT: Roxy.  
TT: Are you up?  
TG: define up  
TG: directions might be diff over there where you are idk  
TG: gimme a chart or somethin distri i am unsure  
TG: dont wanna be like lol ya im up an have you be like wow no rox you are claerly diagonal  
TG: *clearly   
TT: Very funny.  
TT: You seem to be very awake to me, unless you’ve taken up sleep typing since we last spoke.  
TG: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz  
TG: wow i sure enjoy sleepin and talkin to dirk at the same time   
TG: its my new fav pastime!   
TT: I’m so glad you’ve found a new way to entertain yourself.   
TT: Anyway.  
TG: *anywhore  
TT: *Anyfuckingway.  
TT: I’m not going to bother asking if everything’s alright, since it’s clearly not based on our conversation last night.  
TG: ya no fuck that  
TG: i might just wow fall double asleep   
TT: No you won’t.   
TT: I’ve been doing some research and I think I found something you’d find interesting.  
TG: ooooooooooooo  
TG: ???  
TG: insert more INTRIGUED as hell question marks here  
TT: Set up the external connection. We’re watching one of the most ludicrous interviews our guardians ever managed to be apart of.  
TG: holy shit yes  
TG: im gettin all up in your busyness hold on  


Your head hurt. Your heart hurt as well. You were endlessly amused by the outfit Dirk’s bro was wearing in the video he set up, though it wasn’t enough to distract from the thoughts running around in your head when you saw your mom laugh at something he said. 

Would she laugh at the jokes you told too?  
Would she like you?  
Would she be proud of you (would anyone ever be proud of you)?  


You sure hoped so.

Giving into the dare you were pretty sure she was sending you through hundreds of years with those ever-present liquor cabinets once again, you poured yourself a drink and enjoyed the warmth that spread through you. 

\---

Things were good sometimes. Things were bad other times. Things were… nothing, blissful, hazy, half-moments, uncertain, terrible, wonderful.

You stopped noticing if you ever actually made it a day without a drink or two. Failed to realise that, while it used to only take a couple to get your tongue tied and your hands even moreso, at some point one glass actually made you feel more coherent, less shaky, and it was only after a few more that you went back to the giggling mess you loved (hated?) to be.

You ignored the comments Dirk always made (yes you had been drunk every night that week, how wonderful of him to notice something about you). Ignored the fact that you no longer felt like you could talk to Jane (Jane, your lovely, frustrating “bffsy 4lyfe”) about anything really important. Ignored any small amount of not-so-friendly affection you felt for Jake because of course you couldn’t have anything with Jake, not with Jane and Dirk both in deep for him. 

Ignored the lingering thought in the back of your head that maybe you didn’t need to pour yourself another, didn’t need to finish off that bottle, didn’t need to open up yet another. Ignored the feeling that you actually did need it at that point, didn’t just want it.

You ignored a lot of things you shouldn’t have. Things were just better that way. 

You could stop ignoring them later. 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested, I've got a little playlist that goes with this fic. You can find it [here](http://hypster.com/playlists/user/cutthroatpixie?7145317).
> 
> Quote in the summary is from Happy Little Pill by Troye Sivan.


End file.
